


Let It Be Me

by meetmeatthecoda



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Lizzington - Freeform, Red & Dembe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 20:50:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13489512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meetmeatthecoda/pseuds/meetmeatthecoda
Summary: Response to a tumblr prompt asking for a Red & Dembe fic based on the song "Let It Be Me" by Ray Lamontagne. One-shot. Also a little Lizzington.





	Let It Be Me

**Author's Note:**

> The line "let it be me" is from the song of the same title by Ray Lamontagne. It do not own it or the characters, as always.

It’s something they say. But not at first. 

When Raymond finds Dembe, he knows he must help him. Rescue him, save him, from his…previous existence. Red wouldn’t go so far as to call it a “life”, not with what Dembe was put through, those eight years of slavery and misery.

(When Red stumbles upon him, chained to a pipe in a dark basement, filthy and terrified, violent and defensive, sad and lonely, Red couldn’t leave him. So, he didn’t. And he hasn’t since.)

Dembe is wary of him at first, this strange man called Raymond that wants to care for him but Red has always been a patient man. He waits, doing everything in his power to gain Dembe’s trust, desperate for him to have a bond with someone, anyone, for his own good.

(Dembe needs someone to love him. And Red needs someone to love.)

It isn’t long before Dembe doesn’t leave his side, young and curious and questioning, and they are practically attached at the hip. One of the first things Raymond gives Dembe, after medical care, a hot meal, and a warm bed, is a gun. Red knows that after everything he’s been through, Dembe needs a way to defend himself, a way to feel safe. Dembe takes it and learns carefully from Raymond about how to shoot it, how to clean it, how to use it safely. It is not long before Dembe can wield a firearm with confidence and responsibility beyond his few years. 

For the first few months, once Dembe is better and able to travel, he insists on accompanying Raymond to all his meetings with associates. Dembe is paranoid and defensive towards anyone besides Raymond and is constantly worried for his safety, feeling most at ease when they are together. He stands, quiet but observant, standing tall and proud by Raymond’s side, his gangly limbs managing to exude a foreboding sense of danger, warning off anyone who may try to harm his savoir. 

(Dembe and his gentle soul took to the role of Red’s protector with frightening ease.)

It’s one day when they get into a bit of a tussle that Dembe says it for the first time. Red is about to kick a door down and go busting into a room full of enemies, guns blazing, when Dembe, only fifteen at the time, places a gentle hand on his shoulder and says five words to him. 

“Let it be me, Raymond.”

And Dembe doesn’t wait for permission. Raymond only has time to blink, frown, and open his mouth to protest before Dembe is bursting into the room, knocking the door aside as though it is made of feathers and not wood, and proceeds to clear the house.

Raymond has to shove aside his disbelief for the moment and hurry in after him, making sure to cover him, watching in stunned silence as he takes down enemies, people that would hurt him, methodically and without pause.

(It is a sight to behold. Red doesn’t want this life for Dembe.)

Later, Dembe brushes off Raymond’s “Dembe, don’t ever do that again,” with a noncommittal shrug that scares him. Dembe obviously feels some misguided sense of gratitude for Raymond and what he’s done for him and he must feel that he owes him a debt. Raymond tries his best to assure Dembe that he doesn’t owe him anything at all but Dembe simply peers at him with his insightful brown eyes and says nothing, clearly in disagreement.

Raymond makes some decisions for young Dembe after that, something that he certainly does not appreciate, especially at his most sensitive, formative years. Raymond insists that Dembe go to school and get an education, learn things about the world and his interests in a way that he never would have had the opportunity to before. Raymond is sure that once Dembe has a taste of modern, normal life, he will choose to leave him and his criminal tendencies behind. That is what is best for Dembe and that is what Raymond wants. 

(After all, Red is the last person who deserves Dembe’s devotion, no matter how much it warms his heart.)

Dembe takes some encouraging and convincing, reluctant to leave him, but he eventually he relents, lured by the promise of knowledge and a freedom to create and learn.

(Upon meeting him, it is immediately obvious to Red that Dembe and is an incredibly intelligent man, driven by an inborn sense of empathy and a thirst for knowledge. Raymond has always been awed by the rare creature Dembe is, so proud of how he overcame the struggles of his youth to become his own wonderful, beautiful person. He never had a son but he thinks Dembe might be his nonetheless.)

When Dembe graduates university with his English Literature degree, on time despite considerable setbacks, prouder and happier and wiser, he surprises Raymond by telling him that, against all odds, he wants to stay with him. 

“I have been to school, Raymond, as you wanted. I have learned much and I am very thankful. But now I wish to travel with you once again. I wish to be with you.”

Raymond protests, completely taken aback. He had never wanted anything in return for saving Dembe. He only did what any decent person would do by taking him away from that godforsaken place. He expected Dembe to move on from him, go out in the world, start a family, enjoy life, perhaps send him a Christmas card if he happened to think of him. 

(Red expected to be alone.)

But Dembe remains steadfast in his decision. He trained in marital arts and self-defense in college and never forgot what Red taught him about guns. He has grown into a strong and capable man, a formidable and menacing opponent, with a heart of gold. And now, he wants to be Raymond’s bodyguard. Raymond tries to say no, in every way he can think of, but Dembe simply won’t let him.

(He wants to stay.)

Before officially accepting, Raymond makes sure to tell Dembe everything, all that has happened to bring him to where he is, his disastrous career, his poor family, that tragic night, the girl he saved from a burning house, the woman he now watches over, and the people who will hunt him for the rest of his days. Dembe knows everything. Raymond makes sure of it. But it doesn’t change his mind. 

(Red tries not to cry when Dembe calmly sits him down and tells him, “I know who you are, Raymond, and you are good,” because when was the last time someone loved him?)

After everything he has done, everything Dembe has seen him do, he wants to _stay._

“I do not say this because I feel I have to, Raymond. I say this because I want to. You need someone to help you. Let it be me.”

It’s the second time he says it and somehow it sounds even better.

So, Raymond lets him stay. He’s so ridiculously huge anyway, as Red is fond of reminding him, surely the only occupation he is fit for is bodyguard, how else can he put his sheer muscle mass to use? Dembe simply scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

(He hasn’t quite kicked the habit from when he was a teen. Red hopes he never does.)

And so, they move on, traveling from place to place, meeting people, seeing the world, relentlessly pursuing the Cabal.

And it becomes a thing that they say.

It’s sometimes in jest, accompanied with an exasperated sigh and a grin, like when Raymond feels guilty for craving a certain dish from that particular Italian eatery across town and Dembe rolls his eyes fondly and grabs his car keys, saying “Let it be me, Raymond.” Or when Dembe is too tired to drive them home, his head falling forward with a jerk as he dozes off before they’re even in the car, and Raymond pats his shoulder and pushes him gently towards the backseat with a kind, “Let it be me, Dembe.”

Or sometimes, it is more sincere and loving, something that means just a little more because of its importance, like when Raymond insists that Dembe ignore his birthday because he doesn’t bother celebrating anymore but Dembe brings home a small cake anyway with a single lit candle and stops Raymond from cutting a slice, instead serving him with an affectionate, “Let it be me, Raymond.” Or when Dembe’s new baby girl, Isabella, completely unexpected but completely welcome, has a cold and needs looking after but Dembe needs to run to the store or take a nap and Raymond takes her gently from his arms with a murmured, “Let it be me, Dembe.”

And sometimes, it is a serious, death-defying thing, like when they go to an old warehouse for a meeting only to find the place engulfed in flames and Raymond can’t go in, something about the acrid smoke and searing heat that gives him pause and brings back awful memories and Dembe urges him to stay put while he goes in to save their associates with a firm, “Let it be me, Raymond.” Or when they are aboard a cruise ship not far off the coast of Barbados and a scuffle with an enemy knocks a civilian overboard and Dembe can’t save them, not with his crippling fear of sharks, and Raymond, with his navy-bred love of water, pats his back and dives right in with a confident, “Let it be me, Dembe.”

It’s just something they say.

But the time that was the most important, the most meaningful, the time when it meant _everything_ was when Dembe rushed into a collapsing building to save Lizzie. 

They are standing outside, petrified with fear, as the building creaks and crumbles, the blacklister that was holding Lizzie hostage inside darting out a side door to safety, leaving her tied up inside to die. FBI agents are bustling about like agitated ants, desperate to save their colleague but not quite brave enough to actually go in while Red feels the rage and panic and desperate, all-consuming fear bubbling away inside of him. He refuses to just stand there, doing nothing, waiting, while Lizzie is terrified inside, in danger of being crushed to death, but Harold won’t let him go in, instead spewing some nonsense about the structural integrity of the building and necessary professional opinions. And then they hear Lizzie’s single desperate scream for help and Red’s world narrows down to a single thing, _saving her_ , and he takes off towards the door without a care for Harold’s stern calls behind him.

But he doesn’t get far before Dembe’s strong arms are pulling him back with a firm jerk, saying his name loudly, making Raymond turn to look him directly in the eyes before saying it, calm and sure and certain. 

“Raymond, let it be me.”

Without another word, Dembe is darting into the falling building with a speed that is surprising given his size and Raymond is calling out desperately, because he can’t lose them _both_ , he just _can’t_ , and it’s the longest three and a half minutes of his life.

And then there is an ear-splitting crack as the supports give out and the upper levels begin to fall and all the FBI agents back up, wary of debris and dust and death, the _cowards_ , but Red just moves closer, holding his breath as he waits for the two most important people in his world to emerge safe and sound.

Because they _have to_. 

And then, finally, _finally_ , Dembe and Lizzie are stumbling out of the building as the lower levels begin to crumble with an awful screech and wail, and Dembe is pushing Lizzie, beaten and bruised but alive, into Raymond’s arms, shoving them both out of the way as the building completely gives out. And Raymond cradles Lizzie, his love, covering her head and hauling her close to his side, as she stumbles along with him, running away as fast as they can. And Red throws a glance behind him to make sure Dembe, his son, his brother, is there where he belongs, and he is, right behind him, shielding them from debris and hurrying them along to safety. 

They all duck behind the nearest FBI van for cover just as everything hits the ground with a huge boom, the earth shaking beneath them, and Dembe is throwing a protective arm around Lizzie and Raymond, and Raymond is clutching Lizzie to him, who is breathing heavily and coughing in awful wheezes that tell him she has at least one broken rib in addition to everything else. And Lizzie is lying limply on his chest and the weight of her there is sacred because she could be _gone_. 

But she’s not. 

Thanks to Dembe.

_Dembe_.

(Where would he be without him? Red doesn’t think he wants to know.)

So, it’s something they say, Red muses later, tossing a blanket gently over Dembe, who is asleep on the couch in Lizzie’s hospital room, unaware of Raymond fussing over him, making sure the blanket covers his completely feet before returning to his place at Lizzie’s bedside. 

(Dembe hates having cold feet.)

It’s something they say to each other, not because they have a debt they are fighting to repay, as Raymond had once thought, or an obligation to each other. No endless, meaningless vows, no begrudging, empty promises, nothing like that. 

(A more accurate statement would perhaps be, “Let it be us.” Us. Because that’s what they are, an inseparable unit, a team. And those words represent the bond between them, formed from happiness and pain, smiles and tears, time, trust, _love_.)

Yes, Raymond thinks, stroking Lizzie’s hand, looking at her cherished face. That’s what he and Dembe are. Raymond never thought he would meet someone who wouldn’t think twice about running into a collapsing building to save the love of his life, without expecting anything in return. 

He’ll try his best, of course. Try his best to deserve the blessing that Dembe is in his life and he knows Dembe will strive to do the same. They try to deserve each other. And Raymond hopes it is many more times that they say it, those four words, so important to them, so indicative of their wonderful, sacrificial, selfless, loving relationship.

_Let it be me._

It’s what they say.


End file.
